


New York heat, a trouble to sleep

by bugmancer



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character(s), Mutual Masturbation, Tacos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:25:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6821008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugmancer/pseuds/bugmancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Wade both need a vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New York heat, a trouble to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time writing Spideypool, please be gentle with me! I wanted it to be longer but I've been sick and my stamina is not so great at the moment.
> 
> I'm using a combination of current runs of Deadpool and Spider-man, some artistic liberties taken. This Peter is post-Superior Spider-man, so he has all the perks of being a rich dude, but...well, that will be explained. Also Wade is working for the Avengers and running the Mercs for Money, but it's aside from all of the "who killed my parents" jazz, not excluding. He does not have his boxes anymore~ Just pretend everything is going on at once! Except maybe the Spider-Man/Deadpool series has already happened (still waiting to see how **that** ends *wipes brow*)!? I hope this is making sense, paha. Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are SUPER appreciated!

Peter was lucky he was used to the New York heat. The suit was surprisingly breeze-y in the best places at times, but usually, he was so sweaty he chafed and had to swing around in the higher parts of the buildings for some relief. He must have it pretty good if the worst of his problems were chaffing. The streets were unusually clean this summer...and it was starting to make Peter suspicious. The last time he went so long without putting anyone dangerous away was when he was sharing his head with the Doc...Either he had gone insane or something fishy was going on and per usual was only moments from blowing up in his face.

On his evening patrol, Peter follows his spidey-sense to a petty purse theft. Typical but it was certainly better than some world-ending catastrophe hanging over his head. Swinging onto the scene to assure the lady he'd get her bag back before swinging off in the general direction she was crying out after, Peter was surprised when the lady in question didn't look upset or frazzled at all...in fact, she had her purse back already and the perpetrator had his neck snuggly throttled in a muscle-bound bicep clad in a familiar red leather suit. Latching himself to the building above the crowd's heads, Peter suspends down on a web to quietly observe.

"Thank you again, Mr.Deadpool! Can I get a picture?" Confused, Peter cocks an eyebrow at the scene before him…

"Of course!" The lady who got her purse back readies her phone for a selfie and tucks up against Deadpool's chest before snapping a shot of them both giving peace signs to the camera. The crowd of people come to buzz around Deadpool dispursed as a cop showed up to apprehend the thief.

Peter breaks his silence, slightly amazed that Deadpool didn't end that exchange by taking the woman's purse for himself. "Hey, Pool-party. Long time, no see." Deadpool spins around excitedly, freaky white eyes widening as he audibly inhales a huge breath of air like he might use it to squeal.

"Spidey! Just the guy I was trying to avoid." Peter crosses his arms and grins to match the smile that Deadpool seems to be sporting beneath his mask. His tone sounded the opposite of someone trying to avoid his friendly neighborhood Spider-man, but Peter wasn't that eager to give him the third-degree. Things were considerably less boring when Deadpool was around, and more boring was the last thing he wanted.

"What are you doing in Queens, DP?" Peter climbs down from his strand and sits gently on Deadpool's shoulders, placing a hand on the red man's head to balance himself.

Deadpool and Peter wave to what's left of the crowd before as Deadpool begins walking, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Peter weighed anything at all or was any effort to carry on his shoulders. "Oh, just passing through~ nothing to worry your little buggy brain about, Webs." Peter didn't believe him. Although less boring, whenever Deadpool was in town something fucky was undoubtedly going on.

"Oh come on. Are you not in town with the Mercs on some job? Avengers business? Or did you just drop in to see little-ole'-me?" Peter skillfully readjusts himself to sit on Deadpool's shoulders, having gotten tired of squatting. He kicks his feet absently while Deadool stops and then passes at a pedestrian crossing. Legally, even.

"Sorry Spidey, nothing fun this time. Sadly. Depressingly." Deadpool sighs dejectedly before he begins humming "What is Love?" while he goes, casually deflecting all of Peter's questions as they stroll down Flushing avenue. "It's sort of a vacation, really."

"Aren't vacations supposed to be fun?" Spidey crosses his arms and leans his chin on Deadpool's head, sympathetic and genuinely curious, if not quickly losing interest in where this was going. "How is Ellie doing? Preston?"

"It's complicated." Deadpool grunts, matter-of-factly.

Peter was expecting another generic blow-off answer, but now he was not sure if he should press the subject any further. "Oh. Well...that sucks." His hopes that Deadpool's unexpected appearance would be the usual fun and games sprinkled with moral lessons that made him feel somewhat superior were dashed instantly, replaced by the weight of Peter's own personal issues. He could, unfortunately, relate to the complication. But he wasn't going to share if Deadpool wasn't.

"Yeah," Deadpool stops at the mouth of an alleyway, ducking to let Peter off of his shoulders. Peter resists, however, for the sake of amusing himself and lightening the mood, and begins "scurrying" over Deadpool's shoulders and under his arms, refusing to unboard as it were. Most people were creeped out when Peter attempted to bother them with the bug schtick, but Deadpool seemed to realize it was just for play. When he finally catches Peter, he lifts him off like he would a pick up a child and sets him down gently with a pat on the head. "Anyways, you don't have to worry about keeping an eye on me right now, Spidey."

"Why's that?" Peter jumps up onto a fire-exit, lifting the edge of his sleeve to check his web-ware for any updates or alerts and...

"I'm not here for business, my man," Wade brushes over his body and picks up a spider-bot Peter had slipped into one of the pouches on his belt, flicking it away like a tick. Peter was admittedly a bit obvious with that one. "I'm here for pleasure."

~

Deadpool knew him well, but he probably didn't know Peter had placed four other trackers on him the day he caught a ride on the Bus-pool. Or if he did, he didn't care. Because for once, Deadpool wasn't up to anything suspicious. In fact, Peter had tracked his movements for three long, boring, uneventful days, and found that he was staying in and around his hotel only. Peter could even rule out a decoy, the reason being only because Wade seemed to be doing a patrol at odd hours as well, seemingly whenever he felt like it, which was...befuddling, to say the least. What bothered Peter even more than the suspiciously non-suspicious behavior was that even when he checked in on Wade and the first day they talked, not once did his spider-sense tingle.

Perplexed though not wanting to assume too much, Peter eventually let his Deadpool feed alone and took to poking his head around for more pressing crime to break up.

For an entire week after that, he was still stuck in the dry spell of summer, where not even criminals could be hassled enough to reaffirm the faults of modern society. The thick mid-days were giving Peter headaches, so he started going out only in the evenings, occasionally loitering around the hotel Deadpool was staying at out of sheer boredom. He would sit on the roof of the building across the street, tracking a live-feed of inside the hotel with a bot after flinging it onto a random open window. It took him awhile but he eventually found Deadpool's exact room.

Peter was...distressed when all he got was a view of Deadpool sitting on his bed in a fluffy bathrobe flicking through the television while eating on a tub of ice cream. Annoyed, Peter paced back and forth on the roof a few times before ducking into the alley beside the building and changing into his street clothes. Maybe he was getting carried away wanting Deadpool to entertain him but….it's not like he had anything better to do. He took his responsibility very seriously. _Very_.

Finding the window to Deadpool's room, Peter made sure the coast was clear before crawling up to it and knocking. Worried he'll be seen, before Deadpool can even answer him, Peter quickly opens it and lets himself inside.

"Hey, Spidey! Was wondering when you'd drop in." Deadpool hadn't even moved from the bed. He just shovels another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and habitually pulls his mask down while he eats. "Pop a squat, my eight-legged pal."

"I'd never get laid if I had eight legs," Peter lowers his hood and leaps to the bed, landing with a slight bounce, facing the television. He turns to web the ice cream container from Wade's hands and pauses with his hand in mid-pose to frown at the face he was getting. Wade was beaming wordlessly, ever-present mask stretched over his high cheekbones, his face squished in the ridiculous smile he did whenever he was trying to be chummy and assuring. It was because Peter hadn't worn his mask, he realises...and he was hoping he didn't have to say anything about it. He had to trust Deadpool a little if they were going to get along for an extended period of time. That or Peter would be bored out of his mind. Plus, Peter didn't have many people around in need of protecting through his anonymity these days. Frowning, he webs the container away from Wade as planned, checking the side of it to see if his choice of flavor was even edible. Mint chocolate chip. Nice. "Got another spoon?"

Deadpool makes a popping noise as he presents Peter with a spoon that had been lying on the nightstand next to his bed. Guess he really did know Peter was watching him this whole time. "You never get laid anyways."

"Fair enough. So. You gonna tell me why you're in town now?" Peter asks through a mouthful of ice cream. Deadpool puts his spoon in his mouth, bowled side down and crosses his hands behind his head, leaning back on the headboard somberly.

"I told ya, Petey," Peter leers at the moniker, not at all surprised that Deadpool knew his name, despite supposedly never having seen his face until now. "I'm on vacation."

"If it's vacation, shouldn't you be like...blowing up stuff or something? Isn't that what you do for fun?" Deadpool frowns at him, removing the spoon from his scarred lips before toying with it thoughtfully.

"Mandatory vacation. I got people I want to protect, too, Spidey." Peter did know that...as much as he tried to ignore it and carry on with the typical banter from before the days he could begrudgingly call Deadpool a friend.

"Right," Peter deflates, his enthusiasm to pry for entertainment's sake thoroughly extinguished. "Sorry. You just look a little bored, is all." The closest statement of flattery Peter would ever say towards Deadpool.

"Are you saying that because _you're_ bored?" Deadpool gives him a smarmy grin before taking the ice cream container back from Peter as he hands it to him.

"No." Yes! Peter picks up the remote from where Wade had set it down and takes a turn at scrolling through the channels. Yeah, he must look _so_ preoccupied.

"Ah, don't lie, Spidey. I get it. I was getting a little bored there, too, playing bossman to the Mercs. One of 'em turned against me, did I tell you that? Vaporized himself to get away." Peter gives him a raised brow, feigning disinterest by keeping his eyes on the cable. He did want to know. He just wasn't sure how to ask. "Anyways, I think you're just here to get me going, right? Want me to chop up some bad guys so you have an excuse to put me in my place? It ain't like that anymore, Spidey. But how very unsportsmanlike of you."

"Oh, shove it," Peter grumbled, slowly giving into his inevitable defeat. Wade was an Avenger now. Gave them money for relief funds and everything. Quick. Think of something harsh. "Just because you're the Avenger's sugar-daddy doesn't mean you're above scalping for pennies, Wade."

"Ouch," Wade clutches his chest dramatically, "That would have hurt if it weren't true, bug boy. But I haven't unalived anyone in almost two months, believe it or not." Wade crosses his arms and beams proudly before his feelings seem to change about the fact and he does a complete 180. He lifts his mask and shoves another spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth. "It's been a rough time, okay?!"

"I'm just giving you a hard time, PMS-pool." Peter finally feels like he's got the upper hand. "How about we go grab some beers and hit a taco truck. You can tell Uncle Spidey all about it."

Deadpool actually chokes a little, before clearing his throat and swallowing the food in his mouth. "Okay, one. I'm older than you." Peter rolls his eyes. Deadpool squints at him before adding a quick "Pipsqueak" under his breath as if to widen the meager seven or so years between them. "Two, please don't call yourself Spidey when you're not in costume, I can't take you seriously," Peter pouts, slightly pink but not wanting to call attention to it. Deadpool springs up from the bed, the tub of ice cream flying off and nearly spilling before Peter can web it to safety. "And three, of course, M'Spidey."

Peter looked around for the lid to the ice cream container while Wade got dressed. Casual, Peter was hoping. Maybe this would be the well-deserved fun they both seemed to need.

~

Wade reappeared from the bathroom in street clothes that were somewhat similar to the very one's Peter had on. It was a little hot for hoodies, but Deadpool had a habit of not wanting to show his bare face. Peter could relate and didn't think much of it whenever he wouldn't reciprocate a stare. They stayed out at the food trucks until 3 a.m, and the entire time nothing exciting happened, not once. Peter made up for it by drinking six beers and eating twelve tacos to pass the time. Wade tried to outmatch him at first but got side-tracked talking about his recent troubles. Peter listened diligently, coming in with a quip to lighten the mood when it was appropriate.

"So I told Preston I had it under control but she still got really mad at me," Wade sighs dejectedly, picking at his last, unfinished taco with disdain.

"Well, to be fair," Peter has turned away, waving sheepishly at some women that had been watching him and Wade for an hour or so now. They giggled and waved back. Probably sex workers, but Peter didn't judge. "You did use Ellie as bait."

"Yeah but she was never in danger! I had it under control." Wade seemed oblivious to them.

"I believe you," Peter leans back, propping his elbows on the table from behind him. He was more than a little buzzed, definitely not much of a regular drinker. "Maybe Preston's only mad because you didn't ask her for help first before using your daughter as bait?"

"Ask her for help? I can't do that to her again, Petey. She's already died because of me once." Wade hangs his head in his hands, making Peter sigh.

"She wouldn't be friends with you if she didn't care about what you were going through, Wade. She's got your daughter living under her roof. And I've met your daughter, Wade. She's a nut. Think about it." Peter reaches a hand to Wade's shoulder, patting it lightly. "Isn't she like half robot now anyways?"

"I guess," Wade picks up the last beer Peter had been drinking on and downs it one go. Peter watches the girls from before walk off to flirt with some other guys down by a crowd of street performers.

"Hey," Peter turns to Wade, "What about Shiklah? Wouldn't she want to help you? Queen of the Underworld's gotta have some resources at her disposal." Wade laughs darkly, grimacing. "What does that mean?" Peter was confused.

"I'd rather not." This wasn't Wade's normal "I'd rather not in case so-and-so might be negatively affected by helping me", it was more of a "I'd rather not because I genuinely don't want to". That was something interesting.

"What's going on with you and Shiklah?" Peter grins deviously, shoving Wade by his shoulder lightly. "C'mon, tell me~ tell me~"

"I don't know!" Wade shoos him away, provoking Peter to sling an arm around his shoulder and pull him in. He shoves Wade's hat down over his face to be annoying. "The underworld is not exactly the best place to raise a child? Safe or not."

"True," Peter eases off of the teasing, "Something tells me it's more than just that, right?"

"Not really." Wade fixes his hat and shrugs, "I love my wife, don't get me wrong. But she's like old Deadpool times ten, know what I mean? She'd sooner destroy every aspect of a problem than deal with even a bit of it."

"Women," Peter hums a sagely agreement.

"What do you know about women?" Wade teases with a grin.

"Says the guy who tried to set me up with a succubus." Peter reminds him before sticking his tongue out mockingly.

Wade laughs, getting up from the table with his trash in hand. "You're drunk, Peter."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Peter begins tossing him the empty beer bottles so he can throw those into the trash can as well. He misses more than a few times.

"Ya'know," Wade returns to help Peter to his feet, the smaller man swaying a little as he stands. "I came to Queens because I was told that Spider-man specifically wasn't in town and that I could catch some of his hero-residues in self-reflection."

"Augh," Peter groans, stepping up on the table seat to climb onto Wade's back. "How do you know about that?"

"I've got connections these days, kiddo," Wade wasn't aware he was giving Peter a ride on his back until Peter was grabbing onto areas of him that upset his balance in all different directions. "So really I should ask what _you're_ doing in Queens, Peter-man."

"It's…" Peter gets his arms around Wade's neck and sticks his legs under the broader man's armpits "Complicated?"

"Shanghai billionaire lifestyle can't be that complicated. Or maybe it is, I don't know."

"Too many press conferences." Peter mumbles irritably. "Amascots, MJ and stupid Tony Stark-"

"So I'm not the only dashing superhero with lady problems?"

"Nah, you're definitely the only one." Peter sighs, sadly, "That's kind of the problem. And I couldn't take all of the….industry-bullshit. The money isn't worth the trouble. All the people you try to protect end up wanting nothing to do with you."

"Aint that the truth. Honestly, this is a little weird. Are we bonding? Feels like we're bonding. We've gone more than five hours without trying to kill each other."

"For the record, I've never tried to kill you, Wade."

"Kind of wish you had told me you were on vacation, too, Petey. We coulda been doing this every night." Wade shifts Peter around when he starts to slip.

"Ugh, it's too hot to do anything."

"It doesn't get hot in China?"

"Wouldn't know. I'm in an office all day."

"You've gone soft, Spidey." Wade concludes, whimpering a little when Peter bonks him on the top of his head with a gentle fist.

"Don't remind me." Peter gets down from Wade's shoulders, they're at his hotel. Wade pauses as if preparing to say goodnight, but it's Peter who makes through the front doors like he had been staying there for a week.

"Oh! Are you staying the night? Surprise slumber party?" Wade follows after Peter excitedly, a little bounce in his step.

"Sure," Peter is looking a little pale when Wade sees his face in the lobby light, "I think I need to throw up."

~

"Shoulda stopped at taco number 4, I think." Wade calls to him from the hotel bed where he's flicking lazily through the late-night cable. Peter has his head in the toilet, puking up all six of his beers, tacos included. When he's done, Peter rinses his mouth in the sink and returns to the bed, peeling his hoody and shirt off as he goes. He collapses face-first into the fluffy mattress before squirming onto his back and out of his jeans as well. Everything feels way too hot.

"My, my. Don't let anyone tell you you're not a gentleman, Peter Parker. I, Wade Wilson, am willing and able to testify that you bought me dinner before taking your clothes off." Peter smirks half-heartedly as Wade crawls loudly over to his withered and weak body, propping his chin on his hand and pouting down at him sympathetically.

"I'm going to be so hungover tomorrow, why did I drink that much?" Peter groans, rubbing his forehead irritably.

"Gotta unwind some days, my guy." Wade looks back to the television, kicking his feet like a teenage girl. Sleepovers were definitely his thing.

After stewing a moment in his self-despair, Peter sighed and folded his hands under his head. He couldn't have a hangover if he never slept. "Let's watch a movie."

~

By the third _Die Hard_ movie they watched on Netflix, Wade was drooling on Peter's shoulder where they had sat up against the headboard. He had somehow passed out first. Finishing off the movie by himself, Peter begrudgingly turns the t.v. off and pushes Wade onto his side of the bed, wiggling down to get comfortable. Outside the sun was rising. Wade fixes himself in his sleep, lying on his stomach and snoring loudly. Peter really didn't want to sleep...and just when he almost was, he was jolted awake by a thick arm grabbing him around his waist and crushing him like a stuffed animal. Scoffing in frustration, Peter pushes Wade off of him once, twice, three times before the older man rolls onto his back and mumbles something about a Super Sonico before he's dead asleep again. No wonder Shiklah kept Deadpool in the doghouse.

He's seconds from a relieving sleep when a shrill beeping splits his ears. His webware PDA. Except it's not on his wrist where he last saw it, but muffled underneath something. Beyond annoyed, Peter reaches behind him, grabbing around for his PDA- a familiar tingle buzzes in the base of his skull when he brushes something...hard in...a way to which he is accustomed….you could say. More than a little dazed with exhaustion, Peter is slow to pull away. He'd just touched Deadpool's dick...fantastic.. This was beyond embarrassing. _Peter, you idiot. You imbecile, you fool, Deadpool's never going to let you forget what just happened- please don't be awake, please don't be awake._

"Ugh," Wade finally breaks the deafening silence, his voice surprisingly small cracked and with sleep. "Turn that shit off, dude." The bed dips as Wade moves around behind Peter's back, fishing the PDA from between them. He flings it carelessly over to Peter's side, grumbling some vague insult before _apparently_ going right back to sleep. Peter hurriedly clicks it off, forgetting to check what the pinging was even about. He was wide awake, now. He was also sweating bullets.

Peter sits up in bed, kicking the blankets off of his legs and grumbling to himself. He was about to get out of bed and shower when Wade pulls him out of his brooding and literally back into bed. "Where ya going, Petey?"

Peter squirms a bit before giving up and letting Deadpool squish him in a half-assed cuddle of sorts. "Can't sleep."

Wade clears the gravel from his voice and belatedly chuckles. "Me neither."

"Huh?" Peter is confused until Wade tugs at his hips, scooting the rest of his body closer. His hand is inside Peter's boxers before he can even think to preemptively get away. "Wade-"

"I figured you usually went commando under your suit, but the boxers are pretty cute." Wade wraps a large hand around Peter's dick, squeezing it experimentally. Peter wasn't prepared in the least. What if Wade thought he had a small dick? He was soft, it wasn't fair!

"W-what are you doing?" Peter means to sound angrier but he only sounds small and panicked.

"Sssh, I'm just helping you get sleepy." Wade's voice is soothing in his ear, and he'd be dishonest to say it didn't make him feel a teeny tiny bit less anxious. He _was_ on Wade's free-pass list. That and the alcohol, on its way in and out, made Peter stop giving a shit hours ago.

Peter makes a faltering sound in the back of his throat as Wade patiently tries to get him hard. Soon he feels himself gradually getting stiff- his face and skin getting hotter and hotter. Wade unsticks from Peter to sit up on his side, leaning in as if to go for a kiss. Whether he was going for one or not, Peter panics and puts a hand over his mouth, keeping him at a distance.

He glances at the older man apologetically but is relieved when Wade's mouth curls into a smile under the palm of his hand. But just when Peter imaged they had reached a mutual understanding, Wade licks the palm of his hand obnoxiously and goes straight for Peter's mouth while he pulls his hand back to safety.

"Mmph!" Peter allows Wade to overwhelm him, if only because his dick was in Wade's fist. He's pushed down into the mattress, Wade leaning over him, solid frame making Peter feel kind of vulnerable but secure. Not that he was. At all. By any means. But the sentiment was nice.

Wade's mouth is heavy and warm, but not unpleasant. The scarred texture of Wade's palms felt good, too. Peter sighs through their mingled mouths, the tension slowly bleeding from his shoulders. Wade doesn't let him breathe much, chasing Peter's lips when he tries to part for air. His nerves were apparent...as if he were afraid that Peter would change his mind if he was allowed to think for even a moment. But Wade didn't know that Peter was a choosey man. He wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be. Growing annoyed with Wade's clinginess, Peter patiently waits for a chance to put a comfortable distance between them.

Placing a steadying hand on Wade's jaw, Peter takes the lead and slips his tongue into the older man's mouth… Wade whines in the back of his throat, eagerly following Peter's lead as he sits up on his elbows. Peter breaks the kiss after sucking on Wade's tongue, leaving him dazed and obediently keeping a small space between them, his hand still slowly pumping Peter's stiffy. Wade was all talk, as usual.

Grinning slightly at Wade to show him he wasn't being facetious, Peter leans back down on the bed, crossing his arms behind his head, trying to concentrate on getting off. Wade doesn't seem to agree, chewing on his lip and staring at Peter's mouth with a jaded expression. Peter scoffs at the other man's impatience good-naturedly before deciding he could throw Wade a bone or two. No one else was. Now that Peter had relaxed some, he was feeling a little more playful than usual. It wasn't like he hadn't imagined it or thought of being with Deadpool before: the guy brought it up enough that it was impossible not to.

"Come're," Peter pats the bed beside himself and sits back up as Wade slides in beside him. He brushes Wade's hands away to climb onto the larger man's lap, straddling his thighs and trapping his hands with his knees as he begins to peel Wade's shirt from his incredibly warm body. Wade seems dumbfounded and cooperates without a peep. "I'm not doing this with clothes on."

"That- uh," Peter lets Wade's hands up so he can finish removing his shirt. Underneath it, the skin was discolored and dark with glaring scars, but his muscle was as trim as any other super that Peter knew. "That's a good idea." Wade swallows hard when Peter's fingers begin to undo the buttons of his pants.

"No surprises, understand?" Peter tries to sound as stern as he can with his dick beginning to ache from all of the grandstanding. Wade's brows furrow and he looks like he wants to comment but thinks better of it. His eyes seem to be sparkling… body trembling when Peter runs a hand up the flat of his stomach appreciatively. A little high on the ego-trip of having 210lbs of raw power and insanity supple and weak in his hands like putty, Peter rips Wade's pants a little on purpose to get them open. Just for fun. Brushing Wade's rock-solid erection through his Spider-man undies (which had to be some kind of secret preconceived effort, Peter thinks) Peter leans down and pecks him on the lips once more before murmuring, "Be a good boy-"

Wade makes a distressed face and grits his teeth audibly, "Spidey~" he whines, "You're gonna make me cum." He pouts when Peter laughs at him.

"Hm, isn't that the point?" Peter leans on a hand above one of Wade's shoulders, arching his back to bring their groins closer together.

"You were supposed to be first!" Wade complained, hips responding helplessly to Peter's attentions. His hands are curled into tight fists at his sides. He's being so well-behaved, Peter is almost impressed.

"Is there any lube in that drawer?" Peter grunts, continuously rocking his dick against Wade's. The fabric between them was bound to chaff eventually, he needed something more.

"No…there might be some in my belt, though." Peter sighs at his answer. Of course there ways.

"I believe it. Be right back." A surprising burst of energy has Peter leaping from the bed.

He finds Wade's belt on the floor between the toilet and the sink, pausing momentarily to weigh his chances of finding the lube before finding something unsettling and weird first. His moment of rationale is quickly overshadowed by the pointed tent in this boxers. Tearing open every pocket and dumping everything into a pile in the sink, he finally finds it. Peter tosses Wade's belt to the side carelessly on his way back. They would need to have a talk about some of the things now sitting in that bathroom sink later.

Wade is excited to see Peter return, having taken to petting himself to pass the time. Peter crawls up around Wade's legs again, pulling his boxers down so just his dick is free. He feels a little shy popping open the lube in front of Wade's almost innocent, enamored expression. Although he's probably none of those things. Wade shimmies out of his underwear while Peter warms the lube in his palm, squirting some from the bottle onto the dip of Wade's pelvis. The least he could do was warm his own lube.

It doesn't seem that Wade minds in the slightest. He scoops it all around the base of his erection before sliding his hands slowly up the shaft with a horribly lewd _slick_ sound that has Peter flushing a bit. Watching Wade touch himself was unfairly arousing. Sure he wasn't much of a looker, but the sheer boldness of his...everything made Peter a little sheepish under the hungry, infatuated gaze of his beady little, perverted eyes. Peter clears his throat, trying to touch himself with the same kind of bravado he had before when he was taking Wade's clothes off…his hands are shaking a bit, but he doesn't think Wade notices.

He eventually makes it back into Wade's lap. The older man quickly withdraws his hand the closer Peter gets, pining to be touched while still trying to do what Peter had asked of him, cleary.

Peter slides his free hand around Wade's dick, the feel of it alone far dwarfing what he was used to holding...he was kind of jealous, to be honest. Peter doesn't realize he's frowning down at it until Wade's background fidgeting noticeably stills. Oh, right. That was really rude. Wade looks accusatory and defensive; probably wondering what the hell was wrong with his...well endowed man parts. Or why Peter had let it get this far if he was about to back out- it was all very discernible on his bare face. Peter flaps his mouth for words, face getting ridiculously hot before, in a blank moment of stupidity, he simply blurts- "It's big."

Wade's expression softens considerably, a tiny smirk curling the edges of his mouth. He could literally say anything to end Peter's suffering in his usual wild-card manner; but, he decides to make it worse, chiming up in a cutesy voice, "Is it? Thanks."

"Shut up," Peter simmers, tightening his grip in an attempts to silence the subject. Wade obeys with a breathy sigh but doesn't stop his stupid grinning. Peter probably just made his whole year. He'd have trouble topping that one. A few sultry strokes and Wade is writhing appropriately again, a tight, quiet moans bubbling from his chest in little, strained gasps. Peter was beginning to wonder where all of the wanton moaning Wade usually graced his ears with in entirely non-sexual situations was. Having neglected himself until then, Peter pushes his erection down, canting his hips so that Wade's dick brushes along his own. Wade stutters pathetically, biting his bottom lip again to keep his volume in check.

Unsatisfied, Peter tries to lean in and kiss Wade again, but his arm feels a bit shaky this time and he wobbles off-balance. Wade instinctively slides his hands up to Peter's hips, gentle but firm, anchoring their bodies together. Peter takes his other hand back, using it to get a mutual rhythm going, one hand on each dick. He continues in for the kiss, taking Wade's bottom lip between his own and licking the edge of it gently, trying to soothe where he was biting it with his tongue.

"Peter-" Wade's hand was suddenly on the back of Peter's neck, pulling him down closer.

Distracted by what he's doing and the lull of Wade's voice, Peter merely responds with a faint and breathless "yeah?" before a familiar twitch in one of his hands leaves a sticky mess between them. Wade didn't make it after all.

Lax and buzzed from his orgasm, Wade decides it is appropriate to overrule Peter's earlier commands, this time cupping the smaller man's ass in one hand and dick in the other. Peter shivers pleasantly at the sudden manhandling and dissolves against Wade's broad chest with a soft moan as their mouths join once more. A few hasty strokes later and Peter has made a mess of his own.

Breathless and sticky, the two gather themselves before Peter rolls off to the side, an eerie silence falling between them. Usually, they both would have more to say about something like this.

"So...I guess...that was…" Peter breaks the drying lube and cum loose around the joints of his fingers as he twiddles them idly. A cold shower to quell the warmth perpetually stuck under his skin sounded lovely just then, post-coitus bliss be damned.

"Incredible." Wade finishes with a dreamy sigh that makes Peter feel light-hearted. He was thinking something more like _exhilarating_ but incredible would work, too.

The bed dips as Wade gets up to clean himself off. Peter stays to soak in the welcome drowsiness building in the corner of his tired eyes. Across the room, he hears Wade slip a finger into the blinds to check outside on his way to the bathroom, a beam of light kissing his face. "I think it just might be a great day, today, Petey. Don't you?"

A resounding snore is all he gets in response.


End file.
